


Sleepless Dreams

by Tanista



Series: That Deep Romantic Chasm, or Journey to the Center of the Neath [5]
Category: Fallen London | Echo Bazaar, MacGyver (TV 1985), Sunless Sea
Genre: Alternate Universe, Comfort, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Domestic Adventures, Family, Gen, Light Angst, Nightmares, Original Character(s), Seeking Mr Eaten's Name, Uncle-Niece Relationship, general Neathy weirdness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2019-01-08 07:00:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12249324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tanista/pseuds/Tanista
Summary: When the Sensible Bookworm dreams of water, the Innocent Spy knows how to keep her from drowning.





	Sleepless Dreams

Midnight in Fallen London.

In a continent-sized cavern miles below the surface of the earth, it would be difficult for a casual observer to tell the difference between the middle of the night and the middle of the day. The city is, after all, perpetually in the dark, save for Mr. Fires' gas lights and the twinkling of the false-stars overhead.

Still, midnight does exist, though in subtle ways.

Employees of Caligula's Coffee House clean the tables and mop the floors in preparation for the next business day, snickering at the delicious whispered rumors left behind by the patrons.

Scholars lurch home from the pub to their lodgings near Benthic College, singing bawdy songs off-key.

A Rubbery Man slouches in the gutter, drunk on honey-laced dreams of his long-lost homeland.

A gang of Urchins beds down for the night in an abandoned building, setting out rat-traps and pulling their ragged blankets over themselves.

A Constable patrols his lonely beat, giving an occasional dyspeptic cough and wishing he could join his fellows at the New Justice instead.

Ladies of the evening at the Parlor of Virtue wash their unmentionables and exchange the latest spicy gossip.

By midnight those who work in the local businesses- and patronize the eating places and watering holes who serve them- have returned to their respective homes for the night. It is the time for quiet, for sleep and dreams.

It is also the time for nightmares.

* * * *

The Innocent Spy hears the screaming and goes from sleep to full awareness with a painful jolt. As another scream tears through the night he shoves the covers aside, jumps out of bed and makes his way down the hall, grabbing at a lantern and lighting the foxfire candle within.

Carefully he opens the door to his niece's bedroom; in the greenish glow the Sensible Bookworm lies tangled in the sheets, tossing and turning in her agitation.

He winces as she cries out yet again, sets the lantern on the dresser and carefully eases himself onto the edge of the bed, reaching to gently lay a hand on her shoulder. "Sweetheart, wake up. C'mon, it's just a dream."

Suddenly she lurches upright, chest heaving. Her eyes- a blue that reminds him of a clear winter sky in Minnesota- dart around the room, then fix directly on him with terror in her gaze. She quickly backs away until she's crouching against the headboard. "Go...go away," she gasps. "Please don't hurt me."

"Hey, take it easy. It's me, Mac. I could never hurt you; you're my princess." He keeps his voice calm and quiet, in that soft Midwestern drawl he knows she finds so endearing. "You're safe now. I've got you. Let it go."

As he speaks the Spy reaches out and gathers the Bookworm into his arms. He feels her petite form tremble with the adrenaline still coursing through her. Then abruptly she sighs and collapses against him, the tension ebbing away from her body. His long fingers tenderly caress her, soothing away the last of the nightmare.

After a while she finally looks up, blinking sleepily. "What's the matter, Unc? Why are you up so late tonight?"

"You woke me, Beck," he says softly. "I heard you screaming. What scared you?"

"I'm not quite sure." Her expression becomes distant. "It's dark, and very icy. I'm moving cautiously down a steep flight of wooden steps, into the hold of a ship. Thunder rumbles above and a whisper rises and falls below me, uttering a single word over and over again."

"What is it?"

"It says, 'North...North...North.'"

He frowns. Surely she hasn't lived down here long enough yet to begin having a Seeker's dream? Not a good sign. "Anything else?"

"Yeah. Then I'm staggering, trying to keep my balance as the floor sways beneath me. Waves thunder and crash outside. Like I'm at zee in a storm, or something."

The Spy's familiar with this one. His arms tighten around her, pressing her against his flannel nightshirt. He can't let her go North; he remembers the compulsion all too well.

 _That way madness lies._ From Shakespeare's _King Lear_ , but it also definitely applies here in the Neath.

The Bookworm begins to shiver. "I'm cold, Unc. So cold. There was frost in the rigging, and what looked like icebergs dead ahead."

That tears it. He knows what to do now. Darned if he'll let Mr. Eaten get its claws into his niece. Not after they've finally managed to build this comfortable life for themselves, despite their involuntary exile in both space and time from their Surface home.

"Relax, sweetheart," he murmurs. "You're home, and safe. I can help you. Trust me?"

She weakly nods her assent. He scoops her up, just like he did when she was a little girl.

A pair of cats sleeping by the hearth lazily look up as he carries her into the parlor. The pink one asks, "What's wrong with her?"

"She's dreaming about water." The Spy settles her carefully on the sofa. He wraps a silk-lined quilt around her and tenderly kisses her forehead.

"And going North?" The dark cat stretches and sidles over to them; a brief reflection in a mirror on the way reveals an amber-tinged dream panther. Specchio jumps on the sofa, cuddling close and purring.

The Bookworm shivers. "Still cold, Unc." She frowns. "And hungry, too. Peckish."

"Yeah, Beck, I know. Got just the thing to deal with that. Be right with you." He stokes up the fire in the grate, then heads for the kitchen.

An albino rat in nightgown and drooping peaked cap patters towards him on the sphinxstone counter as he fills the kettle with water and sets it to boil. "Oh, my. Will she become a Seeker, d'you think?"

"Not if I have anything to say about it, Toby." He locates two wrapped packages in a cupboard and pulls them out. "I was gonna give her these as Neathmas gifts. Got 'em through Jack from a Surface contact."

Tobias leans over one box, sniffing delicately. "Dried Surface cherries and pieces of solacefruit covered in dark chocolate. Such a confection is quite the luxury here in London."

"Yeah. Had a craving for sweets one time after a Seeking dream. This oughta work for her."

"Excellent choice. And the other package?" The rat sniffs again. "I'm not familiar with this scent. Something...vegetable?"

"Close enough." Once the water's boiling in the kettle the Spy prepares the teapot, then opens the box. "Leaves of the _camellia sinensis_ plant, plucked, dried and partially fermented. In China they call this Oolong. It was her favorite blend, back home. She drinks Darkdrop Coffee like I do now, but really prefers her tea." He adds three spoonfuls into the pot and pours hot water inside.

"Ah. A caffeine fiend, not unlike those for laudanum, or prisoner's honey."

"In a way. Trust me though, you wouldn't want to see her without it in the mornings. Especially when she hasn't had much sleep. Been there, done that. Never again." He shudders.

"You love her very much, don't you?"

The Innocent Spy smiles down at the Albino Tinkerer. "Yeah. I'd do anything for her. Even take on the Masters myself, if I had to."

The rat's whiskers curl. "Stone forfend! Not a fate I'd wish on anyone."

He shrugs. "Fortunately there's another option. A shipmate from the _Clipper_ told me all I had to do was write a letter to Mr. Eaten and leave it under my pillow, begging off Seeking. Actually did the trick. I'll get her pen and paper after she's warmed up and fed."

"Speaking of which," the Pink-Painted Cat calls out from the hearth, "you'd better hurry. She's eying the Cheerful Goldfish in the aquarium and licking her lips."

"Relax, I got this." The Spy loads a tray with teapot, cups, a plate of fungal biscuits and the chocolates. He carries it over to the sofa. "Here you go, Beck. This is how we're gonna keep you from Seeking, at least for now."

The Sensible Bookworm raises an eyebrow. "A snack? Seriously? No spells or incantations? No Correspondence sigils?"

"Nope, no magic. Don't want to set the place on fire, after all. You should be toasty warm, not burning up." He pours a cup and hands it to her.

She warily takes a sip; her eyes widen. "Oh, Unc," she whispers reverently. " _Tea._ Real tea, not some infusion of dried fungus. How on earth did you get this?"

He chuckles. "We're under it, remember? I got connections. All for you, sweetheart. Drink up. And eat something, too." He hands over the box of chocolates.

They share a sociable silence for a while, enjoying the delicacies. When the snack is finished he sets the tray aside and stretches out on the other end of the sofa.

She looks over at him anxiously. "Now what?"

"C'mere and let me warm you up. Later on I'll tell you how to get rid of those nightmares. It's easier than you think."

The Spy enfolds the Bookworm in his arms, the quilt covering them both. The cats snuggle close to them. The Cheerful (and one Haunted) Goldfish splash in their aquarium. Tobias hops up on a nearby arm of the sofa to curl up beside them. A Sulky Bat chatters to a spider high up in the rafters. A Slavering Dream-Hound and Bifurcated Owl keep close watch.

It still takes a while until she's ready to speak. "So, the dreams about water, being at zee. They're really connected with Seeking? Giving everything up, going North, all that?"

"Yeah."

He feels a shudder go through her. "No. I'm not ready for that. I can't give any of this up, now that I've found you again. No way."

"I know," he soothes. "You don't have to if you don't want to. I've got your back, no matter what happens."

The Bookworm lifts her head up to meet his velvet brown gaze, filled with affection and understanding. "Thanks, Unc. This is nice. I'm feeling much better now. I'm glad we're together." She rests her head on his chest again and breathes a happy sigh.

“Me too, Beck," the Spy murmurs. "My pleasure." He kisses the top of her head. They watch the fire crackling in the hearth, content in each other's company and the sense of peace and quiet that pervades their cozy cottage. After a while she drops into a deep, peaceful sleep, and he soon follows.

When they wake later he tells her about the letter; she writes and slips it under her pillow.

The dreams of water are set aside. For now.

* * * *

Midnight in Fallen London.

A time for dreams, and nightmares.

But also a time for two souls to give each other comfort. For protecting those one loves from harm, no matter what it takes.

In the Neath's perpetual darkness, there is no better time for such a light to shine.

**Author's Note:**

> The incident Mac mentions is from my story "Caffeine Fiend, or Tea and No Sympathy."
> 
> Specchio the Parabolan Kitten, Toby the Albino Tinkerer and the Pink-Painted Cat were all introduced in deepandlovelydark's "Lana."


End file.
